


oh please don’t take my sunshine

by LadyOrpheus



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Grief, I’m so sorry, M/M, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOrpheus/pseuds/LadyOrpheus
Summary: Even the best skaters are used to falling. For every perfect quad there are dozens of disasters. It is the nature of the beast. No one likes to broadcast their falls--they aren't exactly Instagram material--but any skater worth their salt knows how to relax into it, how to meet the ice instead of stiffening against it. Anything else is a recipe for broken bones.So that fact that Yuuri falls is not significant. When you’re drilling jumps a few falls are expected, routine.Blacking out on the ice is not.





	oh please don’t take my sunshine

By Viktor’s birthday, plans are already underway for the Katsudon to train in St. Petersburg. Yuri helps Yakov argue with Victor via Skype. Yakov shouts a lot, but that’s normal. Yuri throws a token tantrum about sharing the ice, but that’s normal. Viktor smiles through it all, but that’s normal too. At the end of the call it’s settled: Yakov will coach Viktor once more and Yuuri will share ice time with the rest of the Russian team, but Yuuri and his private practices are Viktor’s responsibilities. All in all about what everyone expected.

Viktor flies back to St. Petersburg a few days ahead of Yuuri to get everything ready. He’s not even back at the rink five minutes before all of Viktor’s talk devolves into “*My* Yuuri this” or “*My* Yuuri that”. 

Georgi looks slightly envious.

Mila thinks it’s adorable. 

Yuri thinks it’s nauseating and says so. Loudly.

It only gets worse when Katsudon joins them. Mila and Georgi and the lot of them are all smiles and warm teasing. Yuuri Katsuki is an easy person to like. Even Yakov eventually takes a shine to him and his unrelenting work ethic. When Lilia sees his step sequences and Ina Bauer for the first time she sniffs and declares him “decent” which is practically an ode to his grace and form. 

If Yuri is initially envious it passes quickly. Yuuri Katsuki is also difficult to stay mad at. He and Viktor even set aside the second bedroom in their apartment specifically for Yuri’s exclusive use. 

Yuri stays there some nights, but not all the time. It’s not like he wants to be surrounded by their lovey dovey crap 24/7. But it’s closer to the rink. And Yuuri’s an amazing cook. And it has a cozy, homey feel that Lilia’s grand house could never quite replicate. And the walls are decent enough at blocking noise. And he’s only walked in on them making out in the kitchen like twice. And “some nights” quickly does become “all the time”. Although when Viktor jokingly mentions that Yuri “is like having a very angry teenage son,” Yuri makes a point to stay with Mila for a whole week out of pure spite.When he comes back, however, it’s with Potya in tow. And that is that.

Viktor and Yuuri very quickly become Viktor-and-Yuuri (said in one breath, one indivisible word). The apartment becomes Viktor-and-Yuuri’s place. Makkachin becomes Viktor-and-Yuuri’s dog. Viktor-and-Yuuri aren’t feeling well. Viktor-and-Yuuri are taking a day off. One must invite Viktor-and-Yuuri to dinner. 

After Four Continents, where Yuuri took another silver to JJ’s gold (much to Yuri’s chagrin), Viktor-and-Yuuri throw a belated housewarming party.

Yuri has to admit, as he surreptitiously observes them when he glances up from his thread with Otabek, the two of them make a good team both on and off the ice. Viktor is everything loud and boisterous. He engages every guest, throws himself dramatically into every conversation. Yuuri on the other hand arranges all the food, silently refills drinks. His confidence is a quiet sort, but no less engaging and the party is a hit even if Viktor-and-Yuuri don’t let Yuri have more than a shot of vodka. (Mila sneaks him way more anyways).

They drink, they dance, they play music too loud, and after even Mila stops demanding everyone take shots, she and Yuri end the night on the couch crying over adorable cat pictures. Yuri sends at least a dozen of them to Otabek with captions that look more like keyboard smashes than intelligible words. 

As is his routine at this point, Yuri crashes in the second bedroom.

\------------------------------

When Yuri wakes his hangover announces itself like a knife to the eyeballs. Yuri is a hundred percent certain that someone _did_ take a knife to his eyeballs in the night. Only razor sharp daggers could possibly produce the pain pooling in his skull. When he finally manages to crack an eyelid open, the distinct lack of blood and the fact that he can see debunks that theory but doesn’t make his headache any better.

His only consolation is that Katsudon doesn’t appear to be faring any better. When Yuri finally manages to get himself upright long enough to fetch some painkillers and water he finds the other Yuuri already in the bathroom worshipping the porcelain god, clutching his head, and mumbling in Japanese. 

Yuri would tease. He’s halfway through starting to say “Well, at least there wasn’t a pole” when Katsudon retches again and Yuri takes pity on him. He hands Yuuri his own glass of water and digs out some more painkillers without saying a thing. Standing is proving to be too difficult so he joins Yuuri on the floor and lets the cold tile soothe him.

It takes another fifteen minutes before Yuuri stops clinging to the toilet bowl long enough to down the pills with tentative, measured sips.

He grunts something that sounds like “thank you” and Yuri grunts back.

They are content enough--or hungover enough--to sit in silence and hope the painkillers kick in quickly.

At least until Viktor burst through the front door humming to himself in all his infuriating, morning-person glory, Makkachin on his heels.

“Yuuuuuuuris.” Viktor calls. “Aren’t you up yet, sleepy heads?”

Katsudon groans and plugs his ears. Yuri attempts to shut out the world by wrapping his head in the towel hanging above him. He is largely unsuccessful.

“There are my Yuris!” Viktor announces when he discovers them in the bathroom.

Yuri growls from behind the fluffy towel, “I’m not *your* Yuri, asshole.” Katsudon just groans more.

“Oh?” Viktor is far, _far_ too perky. “Does that make you Otabek’s Yuri then, hmmm?”

Yuri snatches the towel off the rack to snarl at Viktor, but Yuuri’s groaning interrupts any retort.

“Viiiiktor,” Katsudon moans. “ ‘S too loud.”

“Oh, моя любовь, I’m so sorry.” Viktor croons. In one swoop Viktor scoops Yuuri into his arms, ignoring the Katsudon’s yelp of surprise. “Come, darling, let’s get you back to bed. Mama passed down her secret Nikiforov hangover cure.” At least if Yuri actually barfs he can blame their stupid lovey shit and not the fact that his Russian blood has betrayed him.

Yuri hears Katsudon’s weak protest, “I didn’t even drink that much,” but pays it no mind.

 

Yuri doesn’t know, not in that moment, that this is the first of the signs. His mind is on recovering in time to return to the rink the next day. And it is so very small in comparison.

 

The next sign hits like a freight truck.

 

\------------------------------

 

Yuuri falls.

 

Falls are part of the job, routine even. 

Even the best skaters are used to falling. For every perfect quad there are dozens of disasters. It is the nature of the beast. No one likes to broadcast their falls--they aren't exactly Instagram material--but any skater worth their salt knows how to relax into it, how to meet the ice instead of stiffening against it. Anything else is a recipe for broken bones. 

So that fact that Yuuri falls is not significant. When you’re drilling jumps a few falls are expected, routine. 

Blacking out on the ice is not. 

\------------------------------

Yuri wishes he could say that he was thinking on his feet, responsive to disaster, but the truth is he is simply closer than the others when Yuuri goes down with a dull _thwack_. The sound alone is chilling, but the sight of Yuuri’s slack, unresponsive face is worse. Yuri moves on instinct and he’s at Yuuri’s side in an instant, shouting for Viktor even though Yuri can see his silvery hair already darting towards them.

By the time Viktor reaches them Yuuri’s eyes are blinking back open, dazed and unfocused. Total time lost is negligible. Barely a long wink. Privately, Yuri thinks that it felt like an hour.

Soon enough there are medics rushing onto the ice, shining lights and asking lots of questions. True to form, Yuuri tries to stand and skate off the ice on his own, but Viktor and the medics both make him take the stretcher.

Yuuri protests. Viktor insists. Yuuri protests more.

Viktor takes his hand, kisses the ring ever present on Yuuri’s finger, and murmurs, “Humor me, darling. Please.” Yuri is too shaken to even pretend to hurl. Yuuri relents. 

It’s just as well. Once they’re off the ice it’s fairly clear that Yuuri has a concussion. He does not remember what he had for breakfast or even precisely what day of the week it is, though he remembers throwing the party. The medics assure them both that it does not appear to be too severe, but they strongly advise a trip to the hospital. 

Yuuri protests. Viktor insists. Eventually Yuuri again relents. 

Katsudon apparently draws the line at Viktor accompanying him, however.

“Worlds is just around the corner!” He says as he literally and metaphorically puts his foot down and his hands on his hips. “Just because you got gold in Europe doesn’t mean you can slack off. Get back on the ice. I’m fine.” Well, at least he remembers approximately what date it is.

“But Yuuuuuuri,” Viktor whines, “I can hardly let my fiancé go alone. You have a _concussion_ Солнышко.” 

Yuri, momentarily possessed or experiencing a small stroke or something, says “I’ll go.”

Viktor-and-Yuuri stare at him so Yuri shrugs and adds, “What? I’ll go with him. You need all the help you can get, old man. When I beat you I want to beat you at your best.”

He moves fast enough that Yuuri can’t stop him from climbing into the ambulance but not fast enough to dodge Viktor’s hug. Yuri’s reflexive “Grrrroff me!” is drowned out by Viktor’s effusive “So you _do_ care! Oh, Yura, thank you.”

When Yuuri looks like he’s about to argue he is treated to a double serving of icy Russian glares. He sighs. “Alright. Yes, thank you Yura.”

Yuri grunts and they ride the rest of the way in silence.

\------------------------------

The world is so much more cautious of head injuries these days. The hospital insists on an MRI since Yuuri lost consciousness. 

According to the nurses it’s standard procedure, routine.

The brain tumor they find is not. 

\------------------------------

Yuri is not in the room when the severe looking doctor comes to speak with Yuuri. His legs itch in anticipation, but Yuri reluctantly keeps his distance. It feels too private. He tucks himself into a ridiculously uncomfortable arm chair just outside instead and aggressively likes every photo on his Instagram feed without much thought for the actual picture. He thinks he might have even accidentally liked a couple of JJ’s.

Minutes that feel like hours tick by. Yuri jumps clean out of his seat when the doctor finally opens the door and acknowledges Yuri with a grave nod. “Your friend is asking for you,” is all he says before he walks away.

Yuri does _not_ run through the open door, but it’s a near thing.

“Katsudon?”

Yuuri is still sitting on the exam table, staring unblinkingly at his own feet dangling over the side. His face is so shockingly pale it looks translucent.

“Oi,” Yuri tries again, “Earth to Katsudon.”

Yuuri doesn’t look up but he does reach out a hand. It takes Yuri a moment before he realizes he’s meant to take it. He hesitates another moment before he does so. Yuuri’s responding grip is so tight it nearly cuts off his circulation and the small vibrations Yuri can feel betray the fact that Katsudon is shaking.

What the fuck do I do? Is echoing on a loop in Yuri’s head. What the fuck do I _do?_

“You need a bucket or something?” Yuri tries. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Yuuri shakes his head. “No, but--I...I _am_ sick.”

Yuri’s heart leaps into his throat.

“I--I’m sick, Yura.”

Yuuri’s next breath is tremulous and shaky, but miraculously he doesn’t cry. The trembling in Yuuri’s hand continues though so Yuri squeezes back. He hopes it provides even a drop of reassurance. 

“Do--do you want me to call Viktor?”

It’s not an unreasonable question, Yuri thinks, but Katsudon finally snaps his head up with terror in his eyes.

“No!”

Startled at his own outburst, Yuuri slaps his other hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles through his fingers. “I didn’t mean to--just...please. Please, Yurio, don’t tell Viktor.”

Yuri blinks. His brain doesn’t even register the nickname he’s sworn to stomp out. “Wha--Are you nuts? Viktor’s your _fiancé_ , idiot. You don’t think he’d want to know?”

“Yura, please. I--I’ll tell him. I will. I just--” Another shaky inhale. “I need time.” He grips Yuri’s hand even harder. “Please. _Please_.”

A different roiling sensation is already brewing in the pit of Yuri’s stomach. “But you will tell him.” It is not a request.

“Yuuuuuuri!” 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear…

Viktor blows through the door in his usual whirlwind. “How is your head, Солнышко? What did the doctor say?” He takes Yuuri’s face in his hands and examines it every which way, as if the secret is lurking up Yuuri’s nose.

“V-Viktor!? What are you doing here? You should be training.”

Viktor is too focused on the Katsudon’s dumb face to notice when he hastily drops Yuri’s hand. “ _Ach_ , forget training, моя любовь. How could I ever focus on skating when I’m worrying about you?” 

Viktor presses a tender kiss to Yuuri’s forehead and Yuri’s stomach churns.

“I’m fine, Vitya.”

 _Lie, lie, lie._ Yuri’s ears are ringing. 

Viktor fusses some more, but somehow Yuuri manages to convince him to take them all home without speaking to the doctor.

“I’ll get a cab, darling. You sit here.” Viktor ushers Yuuri to a seat just inside the main doors with all the care one would take with fine china. 

And he doesn’t even know, yet, Yuri’s traitorous mind thinks.

As soon as Viktor disappears through the sliding doors Yuuri reaches out to snag the younger Yuri’s hand once more. “Yura...you promise? Promise you won’t tell?”

Yuri should say no. He wants to say no. He’s _going_ to say no.

His traitorous lips say, “I promise.”

\--------------------

Yuri can’t bear to look Viktor in the eye the entire ride home. As they make their way up the stairs Viktor catches him by the arm. “Thank you, Yuratchka,” Viktor says in soft Russian. “For looking after him for me.”

Yuri thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Whatever.” He snaps and jerks his arm away.

Viktor, long since used to his outbursts, simply smiles and waits on the lower landing for Yuuri to catch up while Yuri presses onwards. He locks himself in his room before the older two even make it through the front door.

He listens for a long while. He sinks down along the wall and watches the thin strip of light shine through from the gap under the door to slice his dark room into portions. He hears Viktor-and-Yuuri’s murmured voices, but no drastic change of tone to indicate that Yuuri talks about anything more dramatic than the weather. He sits in the dark long enough that Potya emerges from her perch on his pillow to come and head bump his knees. Yuri knows he should feed her, but he waits. Waits until the murmuring has faded and the footsteps retreat. 

When he hears Viktor come back out once more to lead Makkachin out the door Yuri takes his chance and sneaks to the kitchen with Potya on his heels. He’s halfway through dishing a can of wet food when Yuuri emerges silently from the master bedroom and hovers between the kitchen and the living room. Apparently Yuri wasn’t the only one listening at the door.

Yuri spends a good sixty seconds ignoring Katsuki and watching Potya eat with rapt attention before he asks, “So what is it?”

The answer is barely more than a whisper, “Brain tumor. Likely cancerous, they said.”

Yuri flinches. Fucking _cancer_.

“What are you gonna do?”

Yuuri doesn’t answer for a long while. “I--I don’t know.” He finally manages. 

“Will you try and keep skating?”

Yuuri shrugs.

Yuri knows the score too well. There are only so many outcomes. No way Yuuri can compete and get treated at the same time. He has flashes of thin bony arms, long platinum hair coming apart in frail, but elegant fingers. But if he waits too long…

He should say something, Yuri thinks. Take Yuuri’s hand again and reassure him.

Instead he lowers his head and clenches his fists. “You have one week,” he growls. “One week and then I tell Viktor myself.”

Yuuri blanches but nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll tell him. I will.” It doesn’t sound as definitive as Yuri would like, but he’ll take it. He waits in silence as Potya finishes eating. She lets out an disgruntled “Mrrow” of protest as he scoops her up and flees. 

He is, Yuri thinks, the worst kind of asshole, leaving the Katsudon in the dark kitchen. Alone. But he can’t help it. He storms back to his room before he does something stupid. Like cry. He buries his face in his pillow to suppress the urge. Potya squirms from his arms with another “mrr- _ow_ ”, but allows him to card his fingers through her soft fur. 

Another half hour or so and Yuri hears Viktor and Makkachin trot back in through the front door. He doesn’t hear any conversation, just the methodical thud of the leash on the table, the rustle of a coat, the clack of Makkachin’s nails on the floor. Yuri’s heart seizes in his chest. If the Katsudon isn’t out there he should just do it. He should tell Viktor. But by the time his limbs unfreeze he hears Viktor make his way down the hall to the Master bedroom and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

Yuri has the overwhelming desire to call someone, anyone, but it’s already late. The middle of the night in Almaty. 

His thumb hovers over Otabek’s contact anyways. It hovers and hovers until the phone fades to the lock screen from disuse. He lets it drop. It’s not his secret to tell and Yuri’s not sure he trusts himself to keep his mouth shut at the moment. He opens his contacts and hovers again despite himself, but at long last weariness drags on Yuri and he’s asleep before he can make the call.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler Alert: This isn’t going to be a happy one guys. Buckle your seatbelts.


End file.
